"Well, what have you to say?"—said Lavrétzky at last.
"What have I to say?"—returned Lemm surlily:—"I have nothing to say. Everything is dead, and we are dead. (Alles ist todt und wir sind todt.) You are going to the right, I think?"
"Yes."
"Then I go to the left. Good-bye."
On the following morning, Feódor Ivánitch and his wife set out for Lavríki. She drove in front, in the carriage, with Ada and Justine; he came behind, in his tarantás. The pretty little girl never quitted the carriage-window during the whole journey; she was surprised at everything: at the peasants, the peasant women, the wells, the shaft-arches, the carriage-bells, at the multitude of jackdaws; Justine shared her surprise. Varvára Pávlovna laughed at their comments and exclamations.... She was in high spirits; before their departure from the town of O * * * she had had an explanation with her husband.
"I understand your position,"—she had said to him,—and he, from the expression of her clever eyes, was able to conclude that she did fully understand his position,—"but you must do me the justice, at least, to say that I am easy to live with; I shall not obtrude myself upon you, embarrass you; I wanted to assure Ada's future. I need nothing further."
"Yes, and you have attained your object,"—said Feódor Ivánitch.
"My sole idea now is to shut myself up in the wilds; I shall forever remember your good deed in my prayers...."
"Faugh!... enough of that,"—he interrupted her.
"And I shall know how to respect your independence, and your repose,"—she completed her phrase, which she had prepared in advance.